“Plenty of businesses in town that cater to that,” she said. “But if you’d like, I know a couple people here who work privately.”
The man snorted. “I don’t touch wielder trash.”
She threw back the drink in one swig, then with the calm of a saint, set her hands flat on the bar and leaned in close. “Irecommend you mind your manners before I string you up by your boots and give all these fellas a brand new dartboard.”
The man struck her across the face.
Felix’s vision went red. He sprang up, delivering a powerful punch that sent the man from his barstool to the floor with a satisfying thud.
The second man was there in a breath. Felix dodged his slow right hook, then countered with a jab to the nose that snapped his head back.
“Felix!”
He whirled at his ma’s warning just in time to see the first man—already back on his feet—snatch the whiskey bottle from the bar and swing it at his head. Felix caught the man’s arm mid-swing and twisted it around.
“That’s low,” Felix said reprovingly. “And a waste of good whiskey.” With his free hand, he pried the bottle loose and passed it to his ma, then landed a kick with the hard metal of his prosthetic to drive the man back.
The move threw Felix off balance, and he grasped at the edge of the bar. He barely had a moment to steady himself before the second man seized his shoulder. Felix swung, but the man was ready, catching Felix’s arm and ramming a fist into his gut.
He gasped for breath as he doubled over.
“You gonna give it another go, lad?” the man taunted.
Every nerve in Felix’s body sparked, anger bubbling to the surface. He could drop both men with a few well-chosen words.
“Easy now, darlin’,” his ma warned.
But it was unnecessary. He knew better than to use that magic. The moment of satisfaction wasn’t worth his life. He may have been brash, but he certainly wasn’t stupid.
And he didn’t need his magic to win a fight.
A sharp smile flickered across Felix’s face as he straightened. The next two punches landed: one to the man’s stomach, theother to his chin. As the man staggered back, dazed, Felix grabbed the side of his head and slammed it down hard against the bar.
He collapsed, and Felix turned back to the first.
The man drew a blade from beneath his frock coat, and a sharp, cold flutter of panic froze Felix in place.
His ma’s reaction was immediate. She reached across the bar, disarming him effortlessly, then slammed his hand down and plunged the blade into the wooden bar top, missing his fingers by a hair.
“It’s time you both left,” she said, the softness gone from her voice.
Felix blinked, stunned.
The man yanked his hand free and opened his mouth to speak, but she beat him to it.
“Choose your next move wisely. You only get the one warning.”
He held his ground for a moment, but after a glance at the rest of the patrons, he dragged his friend off the floor, and the two stormed toward the exit.
Before the door even shut, the patrons had returned to their conversations, glasses clinking against the wooden tables.
But the blow to Felix’s pride lingered.
He could’ve handled it. Without the constraints of self-preservation, the fight would have been decisively one-sided. If he didn’t have to worry about the repercussions of being himself.
It was unfair that he had to hold back and pretend when none ofthemdid.
The prickly heat of angry magic buzzed beneath his skin. He wanted to shout, to smash something. Instead, he clenched his fists and, surrounded by the familiar din of the pub and the patrons he trusted, flung his hands open, releasing a burst of darkness that swallowed the room like smoke.
